Pont des Arts
by AlyssaLucyAnne
Summary: A two-piece One Shot set on the Pont des Arts in Paris.


**Pont des Arts**

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AN: If you have read my other stories you know that there's a possibility for character death in here.

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_Thank you for every smile and for every memory_

_And every time that I looked into your eyes__  
__I knew that we were forever__  
__But I forgot that we were fragile__  
__Every second that you were around__  
__Made me appreciate every moment_

_In this life_

_- Sleeping at last, Thanks for the memories_

* * *

Paris, they say, is for lovers only.

When they finally reach the bridge night is already falling, the brightness of daylight slowly fading away and she finally knows what they mean.

The sky is almost ridiculous in its luminosity, bathed in visions of pink and gold, layers of colors swirling together, churning and whizzing in an endless dance of the sun. Puffs of clouds are carried by on a soft summer breeze, never lingering for too long, constantly drifting by. The sun sets gradually, seems to savor every second of day that is left and only sparsely darkens at the horizon, the light slowly dying around the edges.

It is beautiful and it is cheesy and she feels herself bouncing on her heels as they walk on the bridge, her arms interlinked with his, her fingers lingering on his arm, leaning against him ever so slightly, seeking his closeness and warmth even though the day itself has been mild.

The railing is filled with locks, locks just like the one dangling from the fingers on his right hand. They fill every single link of the fence. Some are bigger, some smaller, old and new, filled with names and dates and promises, ornate engravings or words written with a black pen, vows of lovers, promising that their love will last forever.

She never thought she'd be this kind of girl, the kind of girl to believe in the notion that a singular contraption on a random bridge would keep lovers together but now that she is here, and sees the people around her; the two girls in front of her passionately kissing, the elderly couple on the bench, holding hands and watching the visions on the sky together, she finds herself loving it against her will.

They walk only a couple of meters further, stop in the middle of the bridge and move closer to the fence, closer to where they can see the still darkness of the river beneath them.

She feels Castle's arm sneaking around her waist, tucking her into him even tighter and leans against him. She's wearing flat shoes for once so the height difference allows her to rest her head against his shoulder as they both admire the fluorescent break of the night in front of them.

He now opens his right palm again, watches the dark silver of their padlock lying in his hand. It is simple,a small, lighter engraving on the front side and it is perfect.

"So where do you wanna hang it?" he asks silently with some kind of reverence in his voice, like somehow this place is sacred and raising his voice could break its spell.

The sky is almost dark now, displaying an array of colors that reaches from soft rose to deep blue and she moves to a part of the fence that is illuminated by the soft glow of a street light, standing in between the gaps of the fence.

"Here" she reaches out her hand for the lock and he smiles as he hands it to her, stepping by her side in the progress.

She smiles up at him before she kneels down next to the rail and tries to decide which would be the perfect spot for their lock. She decides for one on the far left eventually, surrounded by oh so many other locks that look just like theirs and she tilts her head upwards to look at him, asking the silent question. He just nods, trusting her to have found the perfect spot, evaluating whatever criteria she has come up with and smiles as she turns around again to insert the key into the lock and open it. She doesn't hesitate in putting it on one of the empty strands and pushes down the dark metal clasp, securing the lock firmly in its place.

She stands up again then, moves closer to his side and hands him the key. He takes it from her opened palm and replaces it with his own hand, interweaves their fingers with each other and with one last glance to her throws the small silver key over the railing, into the darkness of the night and the silent depth of the Seine underneath.

She looks up at him, looks at him with this smile that speaks more words than he knows of and he leans down to cover her lips with his in a languid and slow-burning kiss that leaves both of them a little breathless as the part, their forheads still touching and fingers linked.

He moves in even closer again, and she can feel his lips moving on hers as he whispers, so silent as if it were a secret between one heart to another.

"I love you"

* * *

_7 years later..._

He gets the feeling that maybe this has been a bad idea, bringing his daughter to this city, to the city of love.

She is running along the street in front of him, startles doves as she runs in circles and squiggly lines, arms spread out wide, cadences of her laughter swirling in the air.

She is aiming for the bridge in front of her. The Pont des Arts. _The bridge._

He can't do this. He can't go there. Not when her absence still clings to his every fiber and casts shadows on the broken fractures of his soul that even leave him breathless at times. Not when her death is still a constant ache in his chest, a clutching at his heart that physically hurts.

He can't do this. It's just too much, he feels too much.

Pain.

Fear.

Confusion.

And at times he is glad that he does. That there is still something left inside of him, because the most frightening thing of them all is the emptiness, the void of all emotion, because feeling pain is still better than the dangerous chasms of nothingness. Feeling pain means he is still alive.

He just can't go on that bridge where her memory is still so vibrant, so clear, her smiling face, the softness in her eyes and the taste of bliss on her lips when he had kissed her as the night fell. She seems almost tangible here, alive, and somehow that only makes the pain in his chest grow.

He can't go and enter a bridge where somewhere there is a lock promising a love to last forever, their love. He realizes it was a presumptuous thing to believe in, to believe only for a second that their love could overcome the claws of time and life. Because isn't love the most ephemeral thing of them all?

He staggers along the path towards the bridge, tries to call out for his daughter, tries to call her back but finds it beyond his powers to raise his voice, to say even a word, not able to breach the familiar tightness around his chest and throat that swallows every sound that might escape him.

His feet are so heavy as he continues walking, too heavy to move. His entire being has felt heavy since she had passed away, moving , speaking, even breathing harder than it was supposed to be, as is her absence was crippling him; yet he keeps on moving towards his daughter, slow and dragging, eyes fixated on her, waiting for him, their little angel.

He catches her looking at him, worried, her eyes full of sorrow. She is way too serious, way too mature for her age and he can't bear being the one who put that expression on his six year old's face. And so he smiles, painfully forces his lips to curl upwards, forces his body to ignore the feeling of falling into an endless darkness and moves forwards.

His daughter is already standing in the middle of the bridge when he finally arrives at her side again.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" her voice is so shy, scared that maybe she has done something wrong and his heart constricts painfully at the sound.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine, sweetheart"

She is looking around the bridge with wide eyes, not quite sure what she is seeing yet, but eager and excited nonetheless.

"What is this Daddy?" she asks and he is glad to hear the usual bouncy happiness in his daughter's voice again, the same kind of happiness that gets him through the day most of the time, that has him getting up in the morning, that keeps him from drinking and that soothes the burning ache inside of him and makes it bearable at least.

He's trying hard to be a good father to her, tries not to let the darkness win over and silence his demons when he is with her, tries to play with her and read to her and tell her about her mother. He is always telling her about Kate, and their adventures, about her fighting dragons and being a hero, about her smile and about how stubborn she had been, about the way she had cooked and about the way she had danced, all those stories, a feeble attempt to give her an idea of what kind of woman her mother had been, not willing to let Kate's memory fade away. Ever. Even if his words would never be enough to do her justice.

"It's a place where lover's can hang locks with their names on them, sweetie"

She frowns for a moment in concentration. "But why?"

"It is a symbol, you know?" he takes a deep breath and wills the tears welling up in his eyes to just go away again. "It's a symbol that their love will last forever"

"Did you and mommy hang one when you were here?"

Just don't start crying on front of your daughter Richard, pull yourself together.

"We did"

"Let's go search for it" he wants to say no. He really does. But her eyes are so big and she pouts with her small pink lips and she looks so much like her mother that he can't bring it over himself and so he just nods.

"Where'd you put it?"

He looks around for a moment, the memory of that evening still all too clear in his mind, before he finds the street light again and points to the part of the fence next to it. He feels his daughter's tiny hand in his then, grasping at his fingers, tight and unwavering and he looks down at her small figure before he lets himself being dragged to that part of the railing, that part of the railing that holds the token of Kate's and his love.

It doesn't take long for them to find the lock, their lock, and he watches as his daughter twists and turns the small object in her hands, observing it from every side like it is the most precious and beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Do you think she's still watching over us?" her voice is silent now, breaking a little around the edges and he kneels down to take her into his arms, holds her trembling frame pressed tightly against his chest.

"I know she is" he pulls back just a little and places his palm over his daughter's chest.

"She is right here, in ever single beat of your heart, she's in your laughter and in your smile and she is everywhere you go" he knows that there are tears spilling from his eyes now, matching to the ones on his daughter's cheeks.

Maybe it had been naïve to believe that their love could last forever, but looking at his daughter in front of him and the firm and solid lock behind her, he realizes that their promise had been truthfully after all.

Because he had loved her as she had loved him, and he still does even if she's gone.

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This is the worst thing I have ever done and I am so sorry.

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twitter: AlyssaLucyAnne


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